The Morning After
by VegasGirl09
Summary: Finn and Nick. Not what you think. Post coma.


Home, a place with four walls, a roof, a sense of security and Sam the dog barking wildly as Nick and Julie stood in the hallway of his house that she had called home off and on for a year and a half. Julie winced as Sam's barking echoed in her ears making her head ache slightly. Sam was circling her as he barked, jumping up and trying to paw at her.

"Down," Nick ordered him as he dragged a suitcase inside and set it against the wall.

"It's o.k. Nicky," Julie said "he missed me, that's all."

She knelt down to comfort Sam who started whimpering when she pet him but no longer barked. He sniffed at her face, her hair, her clothes; everything about her was essentially new to him despite knowing her for almost two years.

"I just don't want him to be too rough with you," Nick said.

"He's a dog Nick, he doesn't understand what a coma means," Julie reminded him as Sam continued his sniffing.

Nick sighed watching them carefully. He knew how much Sam had missed Julie. He missed her too. After surviving being attacked by the Gig Harbor Killer, Paul Winthrop, she had spent almost two months in a coma, and another month doing therapy after waking up. Today was the day her doctor deemed her well enough to come home. Every single day since she woke up, Nick was with her, helping her recover and get back her physical strength. Despite his new job in San Diego, he promised her that he was going to make this work and figure out a way to work there and be with her as often as possible. She insisted that she did not want to leave Vegas or her job here and he agreed. He loved her too much to take her away from this place she adored. So with permission from work, he took a sabbatical to stay here and help her until she was ready to be on her own.

Nick shut the door, locking it twice out of fear for her safety now that she was home, joined her on the floor with Sam and asked "So what do you want to do first?"

She glanced around the house, shivering slightly, unsure.

"I don't know," she said shrugging "I guess I should unpack, do some laundry, take a shower, I really wish I could go to work."

"Hey," he said gently "you don't have to do anything but rest like Dr. King said."

"But I'm tired of resting Nicky;" she complained "I was resting for months, I want to do stuff, I want to be normal."

"You are normal," he insisted squeezing her hands "you just have to be careful."

She gave him a menacing look.

"O.K, how about this," he began "you can do whatever you want around here, on one condition, the minute you start to feel tired or sick, you stop and let me help you, o.k.?"

She made a face as she thought about it then said "Okay" sweetly. He sighed; relieved as he kissed her forehead, noting the tiny scar that still remained from the attack and hoping she wouldn't notice it.

As he promised, he let her unpack her things, reorganize her side of the closet, wash the things she wanted to and be as normal as possible. She soon realized why Dr. King had restricted her to small tasks during therapy. Within minutes she felt exhausted. Her arms felt like dead weight, her legs felt like jelly when she walked. She felt shaky, almost feverish and her eyes burned with tiredness. She didn't understand how spending all that time in a coma could still make her feel this tired. When the last bit of laundry was done, she changed into her favorite Seattle shirt she had missed so much, the one that fell almost to her knees and looked like a dress, and shuffled into the living room where Nick was. She was silent as she settled in his lap, laying her head on his shoulder and sighing.

"Hey cutie," he said and she grinned loving his nicknames for her "did you get all your stuff unpacked?"

"Yeah," she sighed tiredly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked "do you want me to make you something?"

She shrugged, unsure what she wanted to eat. Instead she focused on the T.V. Her eyes ached as she tried to follow the movements of the show he was watching. When he laughed at a particularly funny part, the close proximity and loudness of it made her jump.

"Sorry," he said when he noticed her flinch.

"It's okay," she mumbled weakly feeling heaviness in her head now.

"I think I should go," she announced, rubbing her eyes, trying desperately to stay awake.

"What, go where?" he asked worriedly.

"Upstairs," she clarified "it's quiet up there and I can sleep."

Nick glanced at the clock; it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Okay" he said knowing this was somehow part of her recovery still.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked now, piercing him with a sad gaze.

"Of course," he promised.

He had to guide her up to the bedroom as she was slightly unsteady when she walked. She immediately crawled under the covers and sighed. The bed never felt better. The sheets were softer than the itchy ones at the hospital; here she could have all the blankets she wanted instead of the inadequately thin ones the hospital provided. The pillows were nice and cool unlike the warm sticky ones from the hospital. It was like lying on air. She felt relaxed for the first time in weeks as she sank into the bed, snuggling into the pillow, pulling the covers around her tighter and settling for sleep.

Nick watched over her, noting how exhausted she looked but there was nothing he could do except let her sleep it off.

He spent the remainder of the day watching over her as she slept. He wasn't tired but he promised her he would stay close by like she wanted. When night fell and she was still asleep, he tucked her in better, kissed her forehead and hugged her to him, intending to stay there all night to keep her safe.

It went on like this for three days. She spent most of the time sleeping. He woke her up so she could eat and stay hydrated but as soon as she was done with a meal, she dozed off. Sam didn't understand Julie's lack of energy and he often paced beside the bed while she slept. She hated feeling this way. It was like having a bad cold she couldn't shake. She felt achy all over, especially her head. She couldn't focus on any task without feeling foggy and an urge to close her eyes.

On the fourth day of this, she found herself awake but feeling groggy as she shuffled down to the kitchen in search of Nick. She found him in the living room with Sam again. He embraced her like always and let her sit in his lap when she felt too weak.

"Doing all right sweetness?" he asked.

"No," she mumbled sadly "I hate this."

"Talk to me," he soothed "tell me what you're feeling."

"Hung over," she summed up the feeling in one word "my head feels funny, like it's full of rocks, I can't focus, I can't do anything Nicky, it's like I'm living in the dark but I'm still alive, trapped in this weird tight space that I can't get out of, but it's in my head, do you know what that feels like?"

At first he was going to tell her no he didn't understand but then he remembered, being in a dark enclosed space over ten years ago. How alone and vulnerable he felt in that box. How he wanted to end his suffering but somehow worked up the nerve to keep fighting.

"Yes," he finally admitted "I do know what that feels like."

"Really?" she asked lifting her head off his shoulder to stare at him.

"Yeah," he said sitting her up "yeah, c'mere, I want to show you something."

He took her upstairs and pulled out a box of case files, newspaper clippings and printed articles from online. He handed them to her and let her read them. The words were blurry but the horrifying headline hit her like a ton of bricks.

"This- this is you?" she stammered of the article outlining his kidnapping and being buried alive then rescued.

He nodded and sat next to her on the bed.

"It was the worse thing I had ever been through," he explained "but I survived, it took time to heal but I think I'm pretty good now, I have a great family, my friends, you."

But she was immersed in the case file, reading the details, the plexi-glass box, the fire ants, the bombs. She covered her hand over her mouth and started to cry.

"This is horrible," she sobbed "Nicky I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"Hey, don't be sorry," he soothed pulling her into his arms "I didn't want to upset you, I just wanted to show you that you're not alone babe, you're a survivor just like me and we are going to fight this coma stuff together okay?"

"Yours was worse," she continued to sob "way worse."

"No babe," he consoled her, rocking her gently "we both went through hell, but look at us now."

He glanced down at her and realized that her crying in this moment probably wasn't the best example but she knew what he meant.

"I love you," he said "I promise you we will get through this, you'll feel better again, it'll just take some time."

"I want to feel better now," she insisted curling her hand up into a fist in anger.

"I think someone needs a nap," he teased her and she punched him weakly.

She let him clean up the articles and case files then allowed him to tuck her into bed. They lay facing each other and she asked "Why did you save all that stuff?"

"To remind me of what I've been through," he said "and why I have to keep fighting."

She nodded in understanding then scooted closer to him, resting her body against his.

"How do you feel?" he asked her now.

"Tired," she sighed.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Tired," she repeated lazily.

He grinned as she snuggled up to him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and gently scratched her head, pausing to kiss that scar on her forehead.

"You found it," she said sadly "I was hoping you wouldn't."

"Scars are good things," he reminded her "it means you fought and won see?"

He showed her a mark on his arm leftover from part of his ordeal. She pierced him with a sad look before burying her face in his chest.

"Sleep," he encouraged, continuing to scratch her head gently.

She loved that affection and felt a shiver so intense it made her whole body shake. She thought of his encouraging words and all the support he had given her thus far. She tried not to think of him trapped in that box alone and scared. She tried not to think of how he almost didn't make it and how horrible her life would be if he wasn't here right now.

"Don't go," she whispered, suddenly fearing losing him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted, tightening his arms around her, stealing one last glance at the locked bedroom door, knowing they were both safe tonight.


End file.
